Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts

Friday, December 16, 2022

The happy dance

 


“I looked at Antonia and I saw that she is beautiful” - said my son.

He was five years old, and his sister, Antonia, was born a few weeks ago.

In the weeks and months that followed, he became utterly protective of her. Worried that flies would hurt her while she was sleeping outside. Angry of the neighbor kids when they were playing in the yard, they were too loud and would wake her up. Sad when she was crying, getting more and more irritated by my apparent lack of capability to comfort her properly. “Is she hungry mom? I think she is hungry! Maybe she wants something else than milk? Can we please give her something better to eat?”

Not surprising. She was still inside of me when he started to become concerned. Watching cartoons one night, he suddenly declared. “Mom, you should eat the TV! The baby is all alone inside your belly, and she is probably so bored, has nothing to do! If you eat the TV, she could at least watch cartoons!”

But then, Antonia learned to stand. Holding on to the furniture she liked to “dance”, moving her butt up and down and making happy sounds.

That summer day, Mihai was in his “happy” place, playing Crash Bandicoot on the PlayStation. Completely immersed in the game, life outside Crash was irrelevant.

Antonia managed to crawl next to the TV, got herself up and started her happy dance to Crash Bandicoot’s music, her little body covering the whole TV screen.

The brotherly over-concerned and protective phase ended in that exact moment.

It took another ten, maybe fifteen years for him to look at her again as the little sister that needs care and protection, and not the annoying little loud thing, looking for attention, interfering with his life.



Wednesday, December 14, 2022

A list with all the things ....


It is March in Finland.  I’m at work, in a meeting. My ten-year-old son is calling. It is after school, and he should be at home, alone and probably bored. Or hungry. I considered if I should answer, but I decided to step out of the meeting and deal with it.

-          Mom, I’m a little bit wet.

-          Why, what’s happened? What do you mean you are wet?

-          Well, I went to the lake on the bicycles with the boys. And I got a little bit wet.

The lake is frozen. Almost. It has been sunny the last few days, and the ice is starting to fade away at the shores, but it the temperature is still mainly under 0 Celsius degrees.  I am not yet worried

-            How wet is a little bit wet? What did you do?

-          Well, I went into the lake a little bit. I am a little bit wet and cold, and I don’t know what to do.

Antti, one of his best friends, is with him. His house is a few mins' walk from the lake.

- Go to Antti’s home, I will call his mom, and I’ll be there shortly!

In a half-hour, when Antti’s mom opens the door, and I see her eyes, I know something is awfully wrong.  Then she says, “He is okay. He is okay. Don’t be scared.”

I see him by the fireplace, with no clothes, just a blanket around him. His hair is wet.

He was not “a little bit wet” – but thoroughly wet.

Walking in the middle of the lake, the ice broke, and he fell, getting entirely underwater. The other boys have been brave enough (or not fully aware of the danger) to walk to the hole in the ice and pull him out from under.

The avalanche of emotions, it is hard to describe. Gratefulness, horror, anger, horror, gratefulness, joy, horror, and gratefulness again. I can’t talk.

He is scared. Not of what happened, but of me, on how I will react. 

I hug him, and I kiss him. I say, “It’s okay. I am happy you are safe. It’s okay now. Let’s go home.”

Later in the evening, when we both managed to recover, I got to ask him, “Do you know how dangerous this was? Haven’t we talked about the iced lakes?”

He looks me in the eyes. “I’m sorry, mom. But can you please make me a list of all the things in the world that are dangerous?”

I want to. I want to make a list and then ensure that he will never get close to any danger. Never ever again. 

I realize horrified that protecting the ones we love and keeping them safe and secure it's just something we imagine we do in order not to deal with the truth. We have no control. 

Lists are not the answer. 

Angels are. 



 Sanda / www.sandaberar.com



Sunday, March 28, 2021

The story of my life in clip stories


 

The 5s without breathing.

He is asleep in my arms. I know I should put him in his crib, but I so need to feel him close. It’s my son’s first night at home. I lean and lay him down in the crib and go to my bed. My eyes are closing when my son’s breath stops: one second, two seconds. I’m on my feet. Three seconds, four seconds. This panic is something I have never experienced before. Five seconds. He is breathing again. And in that very second I realize that I will forever worry for him. There is no going back.  

The airport

I am waiting for my luggage to arrive. The belt is moving slowly, empty. I like the airport’s buzz, hearing the people’s voices surrounding me, it’s lively. Then I notice something feels odd. There is no buzzing. I look around, all the people are still there. I do not understand what is happening, are they talking, and I can’t hear, am I having a stroke or something? And then I know. This is Finland, the country I am just moving in. Life with the sounds and all I knew before is gone. I’ll need to learn to listen to silence.

I want to be happy now

My five years old daughter, she is a stubborn little one.  “Why you are not buying us a dog now” She is at the kitchen table and looks particularly decisive tonight. “We have had this conversation; we are going to have a dog when you will be old enough to be responsible for him”. “I don’t want to live my whole life wishing for something to happen in the future. I want to be happy today.”  I gasp. She is going to be the one raising me, not the other way around. 

Jump

I am sitting on the beach terrace in Crete. Phone rings, it’s from work. I can barely hear; reception is so bad. I am considering saying ‘sorry, let’s talk soon when I am in Finland’.  Instead, I move away from the terrace. I hear now. The Finnish branch is closing. We are being shut down. I have been offered a job at the headquarters in US. Can I consider moving to US?  I have been dreading a moment like this forever. Something comes around and I feel too scared to take a risk. Yes, I said. I can consider that.